The Anatomy of a Governor
Thomas Sterling was a man of the people, or so his campaign posters claimed. His face smiled down from billboards across the city, promising growth, safety, and prosperity. To Clara, his smile looked exactly like Julian's had in the ballroom—hollow, manufactured, and dangerous.
"This is too big, Clara," Arthur warned her as they examined the contents of Eleanor's ledger in their hidden workspace. "Sterling controls the state police, the judiciary, and the media. If we go after him the same way we went after the Vances, we won't just be sued; we’ll disappear."
"The ledger proves Sterling owned the land under the collapsed plaza through a shell company," Clara pointed out, her finger tracing the faded ink of the deeds. "He forced the Vances to use the cheaper concrete to maximize his personal profit margins, then threatened to expose their previous safety violations if they didn't take the blame when it fell."
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"It's a perfect circle of corruption," Arthur admitted. "But to break it, we need a public forum he can't censor. The annual charity gala at the Governor’s mansion is next week."
Clara looked down at her hands. They were calloused now, a far cry from the soft hands of the socialite she had pretended to be. "Then it looks like I need to buy a new dress."
